


Mild Makeover

by Pikkulef



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 04:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikkulef/pseuds/Pikkulef
Summary: As they're coming to the end of their studies, Foggy wants to make a useful birthday present to Matt.





	Mild Makeover

**Author's Note:**

> This has probably been written hundreds of time before by other people, but I woke up three days ago with this fic idea and I couldn't get it off my head, so I had to throw it on paper.  
> For this reason, this wasn't beta by anyone nor really well edited, so I apologize in advance.

"Come on, birthday boy. You've slept enough."

It was Saturday, and Foggy and Matt were both free. Foggy had been extra silent on purpose this morning - not that he had woken up that early anyway - and Matt was still sleeping soundly in his bed, tangled in his sheets and pillows. Foggy let out a little sigh at the sight of a bruise on his friend's arm.

And another sigh at said arm. He knew Matt went out to the gym after hours for boxing sessions, while he stayed at the hall playing DnD with neighbors as usual, but still, he couldn't help but be a little envious. 

Foggy sat on Matt's bed, intentionally heavily. 

"Dude ! Wake up! Birthday!" 

But the envy didn't match the worry he felt, for Matt had never had any bruises when they had first met and become friends, and now he had started getting some, and lately, they had suddenly multiplied. He'd have incriminated all the supposed rough sex with that Elektra girl, but she'd been long gone by now, and the bruises had stayed. 

Matt moved, burying his head into his pillow, groaning. 

"Come on! Never seen you that lazy in the morning."

He saw Matt open his eyes - it'd been a long time since Foggy got used to see him without his sunglasses - and blink, slowly waking up. It was true Matt wasn't usually a heavy sleeper. He was always up before Foggy, or would wake up as soon as Foggy set a foot out of his bed. 

"You came in late yesterday?" 

Matt sat up, winced, and passed his hands through his hair. 

"Hum. Uh, yeah." Matt took off the small earplugs he slept with - those usually didn't stop the slightest noises from waking him up - and yawned. 

"What time is it? 

"Ten. With whom? 

"What?" Matt tilted his head, frowning, then relaxed. "Oh. No one. Just went boxing and got caught in it, you know, I didn't set a timer or anything. Then I felt like walking around. 

"Is that how you got that bruise?" Foggy pressed on the bruise on Matt's upper arm, a big area that had turned dark red, and would soon get darker still. Matt shrugged. 

"Must have walked into something. I don't remember. Happens a lot, you know, I'm-

"Yeah, yeah I know you're blind. How long have we shared that room, exactly? But I'm still worried."

"Okay,  _ Mom _ . Do I get breakfast then, since you're set on taking care of me?" Matt flashed a smile. 

"That's the plan, yeah, although my cooking skills aren't going to serve that much. What do you say we go get some pancakes or whatever, then I take you somewhere for a little surprise?" Foggy got up from the bed, to sit on his own, letting Matt extend his legs out of his covers and stretch. 

"Surprise? What for? 

"Buddy, it's your birthday today, you think I'm going to let that pass?" 

Matt immediately felt his cheeks burn. He didn’t really keep track of his own birthday. Foggy’s, yes. Not his. He didn't have anyone else to celebrate with now that he was by himself, and when he was younger there was always another child at the orphanage whom he'd had to share his birthday with, so he wasn't really set on celebrating. 

But it was the third year in a row, in fact since they first knew each other, that Foggy insisted on making a big deal out of it - when he always was so chill about his own. 

Maybe it was because he knew he was the only one. Matt let his head drop, trying to hide that it did move him. 

"C'mon, buddy. Get dressed and let's go!” Foggy sounded restless, eager. Matt couldn’t tell if it was to share the surprise or for the pancakes. He decided it was probably both.

"Let me shower first. Didn't have time yesterday before I collapsed. 

"Permission given. Now hurry. I am hungry."

***

The pancakes had been great, and Matt, half drowsy, didn't really want to hurry to get to this "surprise". 

He had fought the night before. It wasn't his first fight, but he could count them on one hand. He was sloppy, but the guy was even more, so it was kind of easy in the end. It felt bad that it was easy, it felt bad to think that he'd hit a man. But it felt good knowing he'd probably saved someone. And... it felt good... it had felt good to fight. Matt wasn't proud of this thought, but it was there, nagging him. 

Matt just couldn't help it. When he had heard that woman's cry… He had taken his phone. Then remembered the last time. Police wouldn't come. 

His face away from Foggy, he asked himself if he had not hurt that man too much. And wondered if he really did care about it. 

"Matt? You okay? 

"Yeah, yeah." He turned his head in Foggy's direction, trying on a smile. "Too many pancakes, I fear. 

"There's never too many pancakes. 

"Amen." Matt tilted his head to the back. "So. Now. Where are you taking me? What's that surprise?" 

Foggy laughed at Matt’s exaggerated sniffs. He had given off a weird vibe just before, but his friend was back now. 

"You won't find what it is with your nose, I swear.” 

"Even if I smell your clothes?”    
Matt jokingly leaned his head against Foggy’s shoulder, sniffing loudly again. 

"Don't do that, or you might know what I did yesterday.”    
That got a big laugh from Matt, his head tilted back. It stopped him from walking. 

"I don't need to smell your clothes to know what you did yesterday, Foggy.”   
“ _ I don’t need to smell your clothes to know what you did,  _ bleh.” Foggy repeated mockingly, in a falsetto voice. "I’m not that  _ much _ of a hermit, you know. Less than you, in fact.”

Foggy spotted the store he was taking Matt to. “Why don't you let it go? We're there. It's at the end of the street. 

"The bakery?” Matt’s smile was suddenly more happy than teasing. “They just got cinnamon rolls out of the oven… 

"Tssk. Put your supernatural nose away and let me guide you there. No cinnamon rolls for you. 

"Oh.” Matt clicked his tongue. He really looked puzzled, that wasn't an expression he bore often."I don’t know where you’re taking me. 

Foggy laughed again. “That’s the point! I'm going for a… Eh, useful present. 

"Good, I need a new laptop.” Matt smiled his crooked smile.

"Oh, yeah sure, as soon as we finish our degree, set out our firm, and start getting extremely rich and extremely guilty clients.”   
“Just extremely rich will do.”   
“Ah, yeah, sorry, I forgot you were a saint.” Foggy stopped, and opened his arms, both, so Matt could get that he was doing it. But he would have anyway. He didn't know how, but he always knew. That was... a little creepy. But the rest of his friend's personality widely compensated for this. “Here we are ! I bet you still don’t know what store this is.    
“Well, now, I know this is a store. You don’t have to buy me something, Foggy.” Matt’s voice was suddenly serious. And a little awkward.    
“I want to. Best buddies, remember?” Foggy tried to put Matt at ease. As an answer, Matt sighed with a smile, and held out his hand, closed into a fist. Foggy bumped his to it and walked in.    
“Let’s go then !” 

It would have taken Matt some time to get what this store was selling, if not for one of the sellers speaking at the back.    
“ _ These frames really suit your face, sir, this is a good choice. Now, it might take a few weeks to get those prescription glasses back. _ ” 

An optician?    
Matt decided it was loud enough for him to believably have heard. He frowned.    
“You’re getting me  _ glasses _ ?”    
“New shades, yeah. Yours are too old, the frame is all wonky, and broken.” Foggy stopped, then started again with an embarrassed voice. “You know, only _you_ can’t see that.”   
“Yeah, I can feel it, still” Matt mumbled, feeling heat rise again in his cheeks. How long since he’d had these glasses ? And they were probably very cheap, coming from the orphanage. He rarely thought about it, but now that Foggy was pointing it out…    
“Hey, buddy.” Shit. Foggy had picked up on his awkwardness. “If you don’t want it, we can get out. Not that your glasses are ugly or whatever, but...I just felt that you might like some that would make you look more… fancy. Professional. I don’t know. Like the awesome lawyers we’re going to be.” Foggy nudged Matt's shoulder.    
Matt couldn’t help but smile, even if his cheeks were still hot. His eyes were definitely  _ not _ watering. He was glad this was something others couldn’t see, behind his old, wonky glasses. They were still doing their job.    
“Awesome  _ avocados _ .”    
“You’re damn right. Getting those new glasses then?” 

Matt nodded.    
“Let’s try a few on.” 

*** 

The sellers were tactful enough to give them a bunch of glasses to try on and leave them alone afterwards, which both Matt and Foggy were grateful for. Matt was still pretty tense at the idea of taking his glasses off in public, Foggy had noticed. He remembered once, a passably drunk Matt had told him he felt naked, exposed, without them. Foggy had been drunk, too, but not enough to not remember that. He gently pushed on Matt’s elbow so that he turned and faced just him and a wall, instead of the window or the sellers. Or mirrors, since he didn’t need them. 

“Mh… so. Want me to give you the ones I think would fit you best, or do you want to have a feel at them first so you can chose yourself?    


“Well. It’s your present, Foggy.” Matt shrugged. “And I haven’t seen myself in a mirror since I was nine, so I think you’re the one who knows what suits me best, here.    


“Oh, the pressure. But at least you’ll never know I got you some Elton John sunglasses.    


“I seem to recall… stars… and feathers…    


“It would look so good on you.” Foggy picked up a couple of regular, Ray Ban like frames. The glass itself was a little too clear for Matt, but they could get custom darker lenses. Foggy had gotten some family money and he wanted to share. He didn’t mind some extra. 

“Okay, let’s get real. These,” He put a pair in Matt’s hand, “Are like… Uh, Blues Brothers type. You know?”    


“Yeah,” Matt chuckled. “I know. Black plastic frame. At least I hope they’re black.    


“If I’m going to be working opposite from you in the next few decades, I’m not going to chose something crazy, you know.”    


Matt quickly changed his old frames for the new ones. 

“How do I look?”    


“Eh, not bad. It’s a classic, really. Maybe too classic?"

"I'm not really into designer stuff, you know."

"Yeah, but let's try others, before we settle for the classic. Even if, yeah, it's pretty good. I'll put those aside. 

"You just want to have some fun seeing me try on silly glasses, admit it."

Foggy laughed, and handed Matt another pair. Metal frame, rectangular, they felt pretty close to his old ones. But Foggy didn’t sound convinced. 

"Meh. If you want to keep the same vibe, these ones work. They're almost perfectly similar."

"You don't like them."

"I told you. You're going to be a big name lawyer. You need classy glasses. Those are just… Glasses."

"Just glasses are fine by me.” 

"Yeah, I figured. Think about me. I'm the one looking at you every day."

"Okay, okay." Matt laughed." I think I prefer metal frames, though. Sits better on the nose.". 

He stepped aside as he could feel a small body got closer to his back. 

"Excuse me, do you need help choosing a frame?" A seller quipped. 

"I need help making him choose a good one, yeah," Foggy laughed. 

"You should try the Aviators. With a jawline like yours, I'm sure it would look good."

Matt heard Foggy repress a sigh and hid his own smile. As the woman left them to take care of a client that just got in, he got closer and whispered. 

"I hate you and I hate your face, bro."

Matt repressed his laugh but couldn't help his shoulders from shaking. 

"And don't laugh! I swear, it happens every time. A jawline like yours. Seriously. 

"Come on. Let's try them on." Matt held out his hand. 

Foggy picked up the glasses he was told to, looking at them. The glass was even lighter than before, a light brown, almost yellow, so he felt like he had to tell Matt. 

"The glass is very light. But we can have them make custom darker lenses. 

"Yeah, I'd rather." Matt tried the glasses on. "So? How's my jawline?" 

Foggy laughed. 

"I'm sorry, even your  _ perfect jawline _ can't save you from that irrepressible 80's feeling, Top Gun. This is terrible. Especially with those clear lenses. But I don't think darker could save you either. 

"Too bad. I'd have liked a little retro look." Matt joked, taking them off and replacing them with his old pair. 

Foggy looked around the store.

"You want retro. Alright. I'll give you some retro." 

He left Matt where he was, and went to look at the other sunglasses on display. He had almost toured the whole shop when a pair caught his eyes, from a corner. Not only was this one quite rétro enough, the colour striked him. It looked pretty original, so he wasn't sure Matt would be into them. But they also looked very cool. And he was certain they would look even cooler on him. 

"Okay, coming back, I got the best pair ever. This one is practically made for you. Gimme your hand." 

Matt patiently held out his hand, and Foggy placed a pair of metal frames in it. First good point. As Foggy, for once, didn't describe them to him, Matt felt them before trying them on. 

"Round frames? Really?" 

"You said retro." 

"I didn't say John Lennon." 

"Try them! Please."

Matr shrugged. "Okay." He once again quickly replaced his old glasses with the new ones. 

"At the least, they are comfortable. How does it look?" 

Foggy clicked his tongue in approval. 

"Oh, buddy. All the girls you're going to bring to your bed. And, with luck, mine. 

Matt burst out laughing. Even after all this time, these stupid comments from Foggy always made him laugh. "That much? 

"Hell yeah. Let's ask Miss Jawline what she thinks.” 

"No, I'm -" but Foggy was already turning away and waving. Matt sighed. 

  
Foggy was back soon, with the small seller. She was immediately excited, and Matt couldn’t help but notice a jolt in her heartbeat, and the little heat in her cheeks. Foggy was right.

  
“Oh, those are perfect for you! They suit you great. They really do. But are you sure about the colour? 

“The colour?” Matt frowned. “Foggy, you didn’t tell me.”

The seller was called back to her desk, and reluctantly took a step aside and left. Foggy got closer to Matt, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“They’re okay, buddy, I swear they’re perfect for you. Frame is some kind of regular metal. It’s the lenses - they’re red. Dark red, barely see-through. I didn’t have time to tell you, but I felt you’d like them this way." 

Foggy stopped, seemingly embarrassed. He tried to start his sentence a few times. "You know, it's because of what you told me, about the colour of your Dad’s -” 

“- boxing robes.” Matt felt his throat tighten and his eyes water again, and he wasn’t sure to be safely hidden by these glasses. He shook his head. “You thought about this just right now?”

“Yeah, kind of. But believe me, they do suit you. Trust that built in lie detector of yours or whatever you call that annoying thing. You look… Dashing.” 

“Oh, dashing.” Matt laughed. His eyes were still humid, but this last comment helped him get back in the mood. That was such an unexpected adjective in Foggy’s mouth. Besides, he was indeed telling the truth. 

“Dashing, fine.” Matt felt the glasses, keeping them on still. Trying to get an idea of their look on him.  “Should we try again against the first ones ?”

“You said you preferred metal frames. And for real, these ones look far better on you.” 

Foggy had a soft smile in his voice. Matt shrugged and nodded. 

“Red glasses. I wonder what made them sell those. Wouldn’t it make your head or eyes hurt after a while?”

“You’ll tell me, bro.” 

Matt chuckled again. He felt like hugging Foggy, who was rambling again. 

“They were on the novelty shelf. Maybe not made to be worn all day every day. But they feel quite sturdy.” 

“Yeah, they do. They feel good, in fact.” Matt smiled, and he hoped it conveyed that he was indeed very happy of this. He trusted Foggy (and the seller’s reaction) that it did look good. After all, he trusted Foggy with _almost_ everything.  “ _ I _ can wear them all day every day.” 

“Then we have a deal ! Happy birthday, buddy ! You’re now a fancy avocado !” 

Matt shook his head, and held a negating finger. 

“ _ Dashing _ avocado, please.”    
  


**Author's Note:**

> The jawline and Aviator comment was made by an optician to my partner not too long ago. Little did she know he is actually wearing Aviators 24/7. He was looking for *something else* that didn't look like he's out of an 80's war film for his normal, reading glasses. Just felt it was a funny line to use. And of course it would make Foggy angry.


End file.
